Thank you - this blog functions a bit like a safe place for me, a place where I can hide away the darkest bits of my heart, and I’m happy to know that there are people out there who finds joy in it as well.

People change and forget to tell each other.

Lillian Hellman  (via darccyyyy)

(Source: todayithought)

There are 7 billion people on this planet who I have not met, and 195 countries I have not visited. Yet I am stuck in this insignificant town, being pressured into making decisions about my future, when I barely even know who I am.

Unknown (via buddhacoffee)

(Source: lluxuria)

I.
When I was trying to quit smoking
and we drank white wine from Mason jars,
you called my freckles cocoa powder
and I called your green eyes
celery.

II.
I am learning how to be a grown-up
who pays bills, cooks her own meals,
and doesn’t cry at words like
I think I just want to be friends.

III.
The truth is this:
Love is an organic thing.
It rots and softens.

All That’s Left To Tell, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics) —

It is practically always so painful for me to speak to other people.

Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, August 1883 (via pillowstars)

(Source: man-of-prose)

wilburwhateley:

Serafino Macchiati, Le Visionnaire, 1904

(Source: heptagram)

(Source: jewahl)

bedbones:

“Very early in my life it was too late.” 

— Marguerite Duras

(Source: halfbunny)